More on Recreation...

Last month, as part of my “day job”, I organized a webinar I called, “Working with Ranchers: A Field Guide for Agencies and NGOs.” As I prepared for the workshop, I asked a handful of local ranchers what they would want agency and nonprofit staff to know about ranching. One of my friends said simply, “Tell them this isn’t recreation - it’s a business.” I am reminded of his sentiment this week as I start and end my work day by checking our lambing ewes.

Perhaps I should start by describing my morning/evening routine through the eyes of a non-rancher (if you’ll allow me that liberty). As the sun rises over the crest of the Sierra Nevada, I’m hiking through the grasslands and oak woodlands of the Placer County foothills. Climbing a hill gets my heart and respiration rates revved up. I notice the wildflowers starting to bloom - and if I’m lucky, I get to see some wildlife. Native birds, certainly; sometimes other critters as well! And then there are the lambs! New life - if you’ve never seen lambs bouncing across a green field, I’m sorry for you. And as the sun sets over the coast range, I marvel at the views of the Sacramento Valley and Sutter Buttes. I’m a lucky guy, to be sure.

Now let me describe what I’m actually doing! Lambing requires all of my senses. As you might imagine, I’m looking and listening intently as I walk through the flock. Looking to make sure that lambs are matched with their mothers. Looking to see if a ewe is in labor and might need help. Listening to hear if a ewe is calling for her lambs, or if a ewe is vocalizing as she’s pushing to deliver a lamb. Listening to and watching my dogs as well - are the livestock guardian dogs relaxed or anxious? I even rely on my sense of smell at times - a lambing flock smells different than a flock during the summer months. Lambing season, in other words, requires my total focus and total presence in the moment. And it requires me to work until the work is done - I don’t simply leave a ewe with a lambing problem because it’s time to get to a meeting. And I love it - I love the work of raising sheep like nothing else I’ve ever done.

So where’s the rub? The rub, for me, is in trying to relate to neighbors and friends who envy the morning walk without appreciating the morning work. The rub is in trying to explain that while this is a very part-time business, it’s still a business - and a livestock business, at that. The morning hike might be interrupted by a ewe whose lamb has died. The evening stroll might extend well past sundown as I try to make sure that every lamb has mothered up. My sleep might be interrupted by the need to make sure the sheep are okay during a late winter storm.

Don’t get me wrong - I’ve chosen (and continue to chose) to ranch part time and work full time. If I’m honest, I do this mostly (entirely?) because I love the work of raising sheep on grass in the Sierra foothills. But because I love it so intensely, I take it seriously. As my friend said last month, “This isn’t recreation.” For me, it’s that and much, much more.